


Support

by Mackem



Series: Imaginary Advent Calendar 2012 [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With so much loss to deal with, Chris has found himself unable to see beyond the end of each day, let alone think about Christmas. But Melissa and John have been thinking about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support

**Author's Note:**

> Every year, I write what I call my Imaginary Advent Calendar, where each day until December 25th I open another day of an advent calendar that doesn’t exist and write what I picture various people or characters in different shows/fandoms/books in a holidays context. This year I’ve challenged myself to write a ficlet for every day. See Vicky panic! They’ll be in various different fandoms and pairings, and won’t be particularly long (except the ones that eat my brain). Enjoy! X!
> 
> That summary sounds way sexier than I intended. There's no sex in this. Just mentions of previous character death and vague h/c in the context of a friendly dinner.

When he receives the note through the mailbox, he assumes Allison has something to do with it.

Chris knocks on her bedroom door, even though it’s open. His little girl is definitely an adult now, after what she’s faced in the past year, and he wants to give her the respect she‘s earned. He’s trying not to hide anything from her any more; he can see now that secrets and lies did nothing but tear their family apart. Chris makes sure he is nothing but honest and open with Allison, but he knows too well that forcing her to do the same won’t help. She needs time to open up to him again.

Even so, his heart sinks whenever he sees Allison slip into her bedroom and lock the door behind her. He knows the only reason either of them hide away like that is to cry without the other seeing. Father and daughter, so alike; they both stubbornly hide their tears, as if not acknowledging the huge cloud of misery hanging over them will make it go away. 

So far, that hasn’t worked.

Allison looks up from her computer with a small smile as she beckons him inside. He waves the envelope at her, bewilderment creeping into his voice. “Are you behind this?”

She offers him a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

Chris hands over the envelope and points at the return address as she reads it. “You can tell Scott’s mother that I’m busy, thanks.”

“What?” Allison blinks, and swivels in her chair to face him. She’s sitting curled up on one leg, the other turning at the ankle to the beat of whatever music her laptop is playing. “What is this? What are you talking about?”

“Open it,” he tells her, sure he will see a tell-tale flush in her pale cheeks when she reads the card, but her bewildered expression stops his thoughts in their tracks. “You…didn’t know about this?”

“No?” She offers it back to him. “Why are Scott‘s mom and Stiles’ dad asking you to dinner?” Allison asks, her face drawn into a worried frown. He aches at the sight of it; her smile is still a new thing, only recently returned.

“I have no idea,” he admits, and manages a weak smile. She produces one in return, after a moment, and although it is tinged with confusion, the sudden clench of his heart relaxes. Chris looks at the handwritten card again, trying to make sense of it.

_Hi Chris,_

_We wondered if you would like to join us for dinner? No pressure. We will understand completely if you are unavailable._

_Melissa McCall & John Stilinski._

Beneath it is a restaurant name and address, and a time and date. He stares at the simple card, searching fruitlessly for its meaning.

“You haven’t been talking to them, maybe?” Allison suggests. She’s still smiling a little, amused by his confusion. He gives her a bewildered look.

“I don’t think I’ve spent more than ten minutes with either of them. And that’s cumulatively,” he muses, and she laughs.

“I guess you run in different crowds? I mean. Cops, and nurses, and hunters. Oh my,” she finishes with a grin, and he feels laughter bubbling up in him for just a moment. He realises he can’t actually remember the last time he laughed.

“Right. So why the hell do they want me to have dinner with them?” he asks, and she shrugs delicately.

“No clue. Do you mind if I get on with my homework?” she asks, indicating the laptop. “I have a killer essay due tomorrow.”

“No, of course not. Sorry,” Chris offers, and impulsively presses a kiss to her head. When he’s walking from her room, frowning at the card, she speaks up again.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

Allison smiles, her voice light. “You should go. To the dinner, I mean.”

“I should?” he asks, bemused, and she nods.

“Yeah. I think it’d be nice. For you to actually…y’know.” She hesitates, before taking a deep breath and going on with a disarming smile. “Try to have a little fun?”

“You think having dinner with the mother of your werewolf ex-boyfriend and the father of your werewolf ex-boyfriend’s hyperactive friend is going to be _fun_?” he asks, and she shrugs once more, turning back to her homework.

“Is drinking an entire bottle of wine on your own while you clean every weapon in the house again and again _fun_?” she says pointedly, and he feels a sheepish expression spread onto his face.

“You might have a point.”

***

Given that his daughter has given her blessing, Chris duly turns up to the restaurant on the evening in particular, dressed in one of his two suits. It feels strange; the last time he wore a suit it was to attend the funerals. _That_ suit remains hanging in his closet, and he quite honestly cannot picture himself wearing it again. He considered _burning_ it, in fact. Still, Allison had encouraged him to smarten himself up a little; the restaurant is not fancy, and he’s sure there’s not a dress code, but seeing her holding the suit out with a bright smile on her face had won him over.

He realises now she had been worrying about him. Chris had genuinely had no idea. He’d been too busy worrying about _her_.

He sits alone in the parking lot for ten minutes, trying to figure out what the hell the sheriff and Melissa are thinking, before straightening his shoulders and heading inside. Allison wants him to have fun. So he’ll try, even if that means enduring an awkward meal with people he barely knows.

The two of them have already been seated when he shows up. A waiter leads him to their table; he spots them across the room as they walk, the sheriff chuckling at something Melissa is saying, both of them glowing in the candlelight. She’s wearing a pant suit, and he’s thrown jacket over a pair of jeans. Melissa spots him first, then John, and to his surprise, they both smile broadly at the sight of him, and get politely to their feet.

“Good evening,” he says, for lack of anything else. Their smiles both widen.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” Melissa says, apologetically. “Sorry. We should have waited a little longer before asking to be seated.”

“It’s fine,” Chris says as hovers. “I…wasn’t actually sure I was going to be here, until I _was_ here. If you follow.”

“Of course. The note - it must have seemed a little out of the blue,” John says, with an apologetic smile.

“We didn’t want to bother you, or intrude,” offers Melissa. “And we thought it would be best if we explained it all in person. Oh - sit, sit down, please, why are we all standing!”

“Thank you,” Chris says automatically as they all take their seats. He cocks an eyebrow at the two of them. Is he interrupting a date? “Do you often invite people out to dinner with you?”

“Not really.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Melissa laughs, before glancing at the sheriff. “John and I just meet up, now and then. A few times a year.”

“Usually whenever the desire to speak to an adult socially for longer than five minutes grows too strong to ignore,” John drawls. “But we always get together close to Christmas.”

“The thing is, the two of us…we’re single parents,” Melissa says hesitantly, and Chris’ eyes widen at the unspoken ‘ _too_ ’. He sighs, feeling himself tensing up. Of course he should have seen this coming. What the hell else did the three of them have in common? “We know how hard it is,” Melissa goes on, brown eyes fixed on Chris.

“We know how alone you can feel. Especially when you‘ve lost somebody you loved,” John adds, his voice surprisingly gentle. Chris looks instinctively at the wedding ring on the sheriff‘s hand, and John smiles sadly as he catches his glance. He shifts, fingers instinctively turning his own wedding band. He can’t imagine taking it off. “A little support…let me tell you, it can do the world of good,” John offers. Chris draws himself up defensively.

“I wasn’t aware I’d been asking for your _support_. Is that what this is? A support group for sad single parents with nobody else to talk to?”

To his surprise, the two of them laugh. “Hell, you summed us up nicely there,” John chuckles. “That should be our motto.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how much time I spend talking to myself?” Melissa laughs. “Or the laundry? Or the _dinner_? I won’t even pretend I wasn’t looking forward to this!”

“It helps,” John shrugs, and his eyes are fixed on Chris. “And I sure as hell wish we’d thought of it back when…” He sighs, and breaks off, before producing a small smile. “Back when I first _became_ a single parent. I remember exactly how hard it was, Chris. Believe me.”

Chris nods after a pause. When he and Victoria had asked Allison to keep an eye on her friends, she had filled them in on the Stilinski family history. He knows what the sheriff has been through. “I do believe you,” he offers, and is quite surprised to find he means it. He looks between the two of them, and clears his throat. “I apologise. I shouldn’t…I don’t mean to seem rude. It was kind of you to think of me at all.”

“You’ve been in our thoughts for awhile now,” Melissa says gently.

They place their orders, and while they wait, Chris finds himself lapsing into silence. Neither of them seem to mind his reticence. It’s easier just to let the two of them converse, and to let the sound of their voices wash over him as he listens. He feels himself relaxing slowly as they catch up.

“How has Scott been doing?”

“Better. His grades have climbed a little,” Melissa smiles. “Not to what he used to get, but closer, at least. I think Stiles has been studying with him.”

“Has he? Good. I was worried his grades would start to slip, with him finally being allowed on the lacrosse pitch instead of warming the bench,” John says. His pride in his son is unmistakeable. “I was hoping he wouldn’t lose what little focus he has.”

Melissa raises an eyebrow, her eyes concerned. “Is he getting worse?”

“I’m…not sure. He’s sleeping less, that’s for sure. He’s always got dark circles around his eyes. And he’s jumpier.” Chris aims a knowing huff at the table. Beacon Hills would make anybody jumpy, he’s sure of it.

Melissa meets his eyes for a second, smiling sadly, before turning her attention back to John. “He could need to change the dosage of his meds. They might not be as effective any more.”

“That’s not a bad idea. He’s about due his annual review,” John muses. “I’ll have a word with his doctor.”

Chris turns to Melissa, bemused enough to break his silence. “You’re a psychiatric nurse?”

“Not quite,” she concedes. “But when your son’s best friend is diagnosed with ADHD, and your son has a _thousand_ questions about what it all means for his friend, you kind of find yourself hunting out useful courses and books on the subject.”

“We took advantage of you, Melissa,” John says, and he takes her hand in his to give it a tender squeeze. “We shouldn’t have done that.” She scoffs, and leans across to pat his cheek in return.

“Don’t be such an idiot! It’s all been useful to me, and if it gave Scott, or Stiles, or _you_ any peace of mind, it was all worth it.”

“Still. Thank you, for putting yourself out like that,” John says with a broad smile. He clears his throat before he turns to face Chris. “How’s Allison doing?”

“She’s…” Chris takes a deep breath, before forcing himself to answer honestly. “I think it’s getting better, but she’s struggling. She misses her mother, very much. And I think…maybe Kate, too. The Kate she knew before…” He breaks off, mouth twisting, but all he gets in return is two kind smiles.

“We know,” John murmurs, and Melissa nods.

“It’s natural. You can’t just turn off your love for somebody, no matter what they do. Believe me,” she snorts, “I know that. How have _you_ been coping?”

Chris takes a breath and forces the words out. He’s surprised by how eager he is to actually vent his feelings. “Coping is the right word. I feel like…I’m just dealing with the days as they come. I can’t look ahead. It feels…wrong, somehow. That probably doesn‘t make sense,” he mumbles, but John nods encouragingly.

“Of course it does. You feel guilty, right? For looking to the future. Like it means you’re leaving your past behind, leaving _them_ behind, when you can‘t imagine ever wanting to do that.”

Chris swallows. “Right.”

“It’s worse, near Christmas, isn’t it?” John says softly.

His throat is dry. He sips from his glass of water to settle himself. “I’ve barely thought about Christmas,” he admits. “I’m not ready for it. At _all_. Allison…” He sighs, rubbing his temples tiredly. “She deserves a good Christmas, and I haven’t done a thing to make it happen.”

“It’s not too late,” John says, and suddenly both of them turn their attention squarely on him. “Does Allison have an amazon account?”

“What?” Chris falters, thrown by this. 

“An amazon account. Or eBay? Any online shopping website?” Melissa asks. Her voice is gentle.

“I think so.” Chris looks between the two of them, searching for…anything. For any sign of mockery, or pity, but he comes up blank. There’s empathy, shining in their eyes, and their smiles are tinged with kindness. He feels himself settle, thinking about their question. “She must. She buys a lot of things online.”

“Then she probably has a wish list. If you enter her email into whatever website she uses, it’ll show you everything she’s marked as wanting. It‘s easy enough,” John offers. He scratches his head, a helpless little gesture. “Hell, if _I_ can manage it, anybody can. And I haven‘t even been able to log into the twitter thingy Stiles up for me for three months now.”

Chris is surprised by the chuckle this draws from him. He sees the sheriff and Melissa relax, sharing a brief smile, before Melissa sips her wine and directs another question at him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing for Christmas dinner?”

Chris blinks. “I - I don’t know. Victoria…” He trails off, his heart suddenly aching. He misses her cooking. Hell, he misses her _everything_. The soft press of a hand over his startles him, and Melissa pats his hand again, comfortingly, as he focuses on her once more. He takes a deep breath to settle himself. “I haven’t even considered. Victoria did most of the cooking. I didn’t - I never…” He breaks off, before making himself finish. “I never learned. Gerard didn’t like to share his secrets.” 

How true that had been.

Melissa gives him a soft smile, before speaking up. “The two of you could come have dinner with me and Scott, if you’d like. I always end up making too much anyway, and Stiles will be with us, too.”

“Thanks again for that, hon. Damn schedules,” John says mildly. Gratitude is clear in his easy smile. “I’ve got my holidays in for next Christmas, at least. My turn next year.”

Chris can’t help his curiosity. “Your families…have Christmas dinner together?”

“Sure,” Melissa grins. “Scott and Stiles are like brothers - ”

“ - more like an old married couple,” John laughs. Chris can’t help the tight smile that slips onto his face.

“I can buy that, yeah,” Melissa snorts. “Which makes us in-laws, I guess?”

“Our jobs don’t guarantee we’ll be free on Christmas day,” John shrugs. “I don’t want my staff to think I’m willing to fiddle the schedules and give myself days off I’m not due.”

“We usually have at least one of us free,” Melissa adds. “And it’s so much easier to make one dinner for both families. I mean it, you’d be welcome to join us. Another two people won’t hurt. I know things might be a little…strained, shall we say, but it’s Christmas. I’m sure we can all pull together, right? If you want, I mean,” she adds hurriedly. John grins at her, and turns to Chris.

“Or you could make a reservation for a table somewhere. Plenty of places are open on Christmas day. Best get ‘em booked soon, though. They fill up fast, at the holidays. But I‘m sure Stiles and Scott would be happy to share with you and Allison.”

“Right. Of course.” Chris takes a deep breath, and aims a hesitant smile at the two of them. “I’ll think about it,” he offers, and is surprised to find he means it. But then, Christmas _is_ a time for looking to the future, after all.

Maybe it’s time that he and Allison did just that.


End file.
